Oy to the World
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: The Joker and Harley Quinn are spending their first Christmas with their twin children, Arleen and J.J., when Harley's parents decide to visit for the holidays to meet their grandchildren. Harley's parents are Jewish, and between her trying to impress them with her dysfunctional family, and trying not to offend them with Christmas, the holidays are anything but happy.
1. Chapter 1

**Oy to the World**

The employees of the First National Bank of Gotham City were a long suffering group of people. It wasn't enough that they had to deal with irate customers and greedy shareholders, they also had to deal with being robbed almost every other week by one various supercriminal or another. There wasn't an employee there who hadn't sat through at least a dozen hold ups and hostage situations from the likes of the Joker, Poison Ivy, or Two-Face (although he generally preferred robbing the Second National Bank, for obvious reasons.)

And since the holidays were fast approaching, the bank's opening hours were extended, as people rushed to deplete their bank accounts Christmas shopping or desperately tried to deposit more money into them for Christmas shopping, which of course meant longer working hours for the employees. It made the garlands of tinsel and the fake Christmas trees that decorated the bank lobby seem even more mocking, and the wishes of 'Happy holidays!' to the customers seem even more false than the usual 'Have a nice day!'

One such understandably disgruntled employee was Mr. Dave Warner, who had been a junior manager at the bank for the past eight years. It was four in the afternoon and already turning dark, and he glanced out the window glumly, depressed at wasting another day in this stressful and soul-destroying place. Still, it could be worse, he reminded himself. He was employed, which was more than a lot of people in Gotham could say. He could support himself and his family so that they had plenty of food and gifts for Christmas this year. And at least there had been no robbery today.

He looked away from the window out into the lobby and realized that he had spoken too soon. There, striding through the main doors of the bank, was the Joker, closely followed by his accomplice, Harley Quinn. To Dave's surprise, they seemed to ignore the looks of horror and panic from both customers and employees, walking calmly across the lobby and waving, and, to Dave's horror, heading straight for his office.

The Joker pushed open the glass door. "Knock knock!" he said, smiling at Dave. "I think we have an appointment with you, sport?"

"Erm…uh…no," said Dave, glancing down at his sheet. "No, I'm expecting a…Mr. and Mrs…erm…Jack White."

"Yep, that's us!" said the Joker, holding open the glass door for Harley who, to Dave's surprise, pushed a baby stroller into his office. A baby stroller which held two twin babies, a boy and a girl, who couldn't have been more than a year old.

They were both the spitting image of their parents. The boy was wearing a miniature purple suit, and the girl had her blonde hair up in pigtails. And they both shared their parents' wide, slightly terrifying smiles.

"Gotta use an alias when you're as famous as I am," continued Joker, as he and Harley took seats across from Dave. "I mean, if I'd booked an appointment for the Joker and Harley Quinn, the cops or the Bat would've probably been here to meet us!" he chuckled. "Not that I don't trust you, sport – I'd just prefer to be safe than sorry!"

"I…see," stammered Dave, still looking in horror from the children to their parents. Then he forced a smile, trying to remember his professionalism. "Well, how can I help you today?"

"We wanna open bank accounts for Arleen and J.J.," said Harley, gesturing at the children. "Their grandparents are visiting us for the holidays, and they wanna start saving for the kiddies' future. So we'd like to open two savings accounts in their names, please."

Dave stared at her. "I…see," he repeated, reaching for some forms. "And…do you and your…partner have an account with us?"

"Nah, I don't believe in bank accounts, sport," retorted Joker, grinning. "In my experience, they're not very secure. I mean, any nutjob can just walk in here with a gun and hold the place up – it's as easy as pie! I speak from experience. But Harley insists that her parents wanna do this through a bank – it's like they don't trust me!" he chuckled. "But I ain't gonna take money from my own kiddies. What kinda terrible father would I be?" he asked, cooing over the children, who giggled, beaming at him. "Especially when little J.J. is just the spitting image of his old man, and little Arleen is just as cute as a button! Yes, she is! Yes, she is!" he purred, giving her an Eskimo kiss.

Dave was shocked at this display of affection from a man well known to be an unfeeling psychopath, but he just cleared his throat and returned his attention to the business at hand. "Well…we offer several types of savings accounts here at Gotham First National. Let me explain to you the advantages of each one…"

Harley listened intently, but the Joker had stopped listening – boring things like bank accounts couldn't hold his attention for very long, unless he was emptying them of money, and especially when his children were right there. They were looking bored too, and so Joker reached into his pocket and began blowing up some balloons, twisting them into animal shapes. The children giggled, gurgling in delight and clapping their hands, as Joker handed them an animal balloon each. They both immediately started trying to eat them – they were at the stage where their first reaction to everything was to put it in their mouths.

"Mr. J, that's a choking hazard!" snapped Harley, ripping the balloons away from the children, who started bawling. She shushed them, reaching into her bag and handing them each a pacifier. "Can you please pay attention to what this man is saying? It's for the kiddies' future!"

"I'm sure you've got it well in hand, pumpkin pie," said Joker, patting Harley on the back. "Smart little thing like you should have no problem deciding which account is best!"

"I'd appreciate your opinion, all the same!" snapped Harley. "Now look, this one's got a higher interest rate, but with taxes and fees, it might not be worth it. This tax free one is probably better…"

Joker tried his best to concentrate on what Harley was saying. His son, however, had been examining the belt that kept him buckled into the stroller, and had just begun to figure out how to unbuckle it. He tugged on it for a few moments, and then managed to press down on the release and gave a happy coo as he slid down to the floor. He crawled over to his sister's seat, hoisting himself up and waving at her. She gasped in astonishment, pointing at his empty seat in front of her. "Gah?" she whispered.

"Gah gah," he said, pointing down at her buckle. She tapped it lightly and strained against it, but nothing happened. He shook his head, pointing at it again and making a fist which he bashed up and down. "Bam bam!" he said. She mimicked the action, punching the buckle, and was soon free like her brother, landing on the floor with a bump. They chattered to each other as they crawled across the floor, heading for the glass door.

Unfortunately, they didn't realize it was glass, or a door, and both of them crawled head-first into it at a fairly impressive speed with a loud thud. They began wailing, which instantly arrested their parents' attention away from bank accounts.

"Aw, babies, how did you get loose?" cooed Harley, as she picked up J.J., trying to comfort him, while Joker took Arleen.

"I know you kiddies don't like being locked up – I don't either," said Joker, soothingly. "But you can't wander off!"

"Dada, ickle wham!" wailed Arleen. The only words she and her brother said that made any sense were their parents' titles, so Joker just had to interpret as best he could.

"Aw, poor Leenie's got a boo boo!" he cooed. "But I know what'll make it better!"

He sat her down on his lap and covered his eyes. "Peekaboo!" he cried, uncovering his eyes and making a face. Arleen instantly brightened, giggling, as her brother looked over.

"Dada iggleroo, Mama!" he said, pointing.

"Uh huh, you go play with your Daddy," said Harley, passing J.J. to his father. While the Joker distracted the children, Harley turned back to Dave.

"Sorry about that," she said. "They're little geniuses, just like their Daddy, and they've got his energy and ingenuity too. Never a dull moment!" she said, laughing. "So I think we'll go with the tax free saver here," she said, pointing at a form. "Do I just fill this out?"

"Yes…ma'am…let me get you a pen," said Dave, repeating the word 'professionalism' over and over in his head.

Harley finished up the forms, handing them to Dave and then standing up, shaking his hand. "Well, thanks for all your help!" she said, cheerfully. "Oh, and Mr. J and me will try to avoid robbing this bank from now on. It wouldn't be right, y'know, with the kiddies' savings here. We'll spread the word around the other rogues too. So your life should be a lot easier from here on out!" she chuckled. "Happy holidays!"

The Joker had buckled the children back into the stroller and pushed it out of the office, with Harley skipping after him. Dave stared at them until they left the bank, and then let out the breath he'd been holding. He beeped an intercom on his desk.

"Sue? This is Dave. I'm going home early today. Tell the boss if he asks, will you?"

"And if he asks why?" replied Sue.

Dave shrugged. "Tell him I'm going to spend some time with my wife and kids. And that when I come in tomorrow, I expect a raise," he said, looking down at the forms on his desk. "I've just saved this bank from a lot of trouble."


	2. Chapter 2

"Well, that should please your parents," said Joker as they carried the stroller down the steps of the bank, heading out into the streets of Gotham City and ignoring the looks of horror from the passers-by. "I still resent being told what to do by them, though. Especially when it involves me wasting my afternoon sitting in banks when I could be planning my holiday scheme for the Bat."

"It didn't kill you to take half an hour outta your life to improve your kiddies' future and pacify my parents," snapped Harley. "It's important to me, Mr. J. And it's important to them. Although I told them this whole focus on money is playing up the stereotype, but they didn't care!" she laughed.

"What stereotype?" he asked.

"The one about Jewish people being obsessed with money," she retorted.

Joker looked puzzled. "I don't get it," he said.

Harley looked at him. "You know my parents are Jewish, right?" she asked.

He stared back. "Uh…no, I didn't," he said, slowly. "Does that mean…you're Jewish?"

She glared at him. "How do you not know this about me?!" she demanded. "After all our years together!"

"I dunno – I don't know anything about Jews!" snapped Joker. "And the stuff that I do know, you don't do! Like the yarmulke and the menorah and the…dreidel! And you celebrate Christmas, for goodness sake!"

"Yeah, that's because I'm a lapsed Jew," she retorted. "I don't practice the faith anymore. Anyway, Christmas trees are fun and pretty," she said, nodding as they passed the one in Gotham Square. "And I like getting Christmas presents. You don't get anything at Hanukkah except guilt," she sighed. "And that ain't very fun."

"Do your parents know you don't practice the faith anymore?" asked Joker.

Harley shrugged. "I've never told them directly. But they know I'm with a gentile," she said, kissing his cheek. "And he's fathered my children…"

"They're not expecting Arleen and J.J. to be raised Jewish, are they?" asked Joker. "Because I dunno how to do that!"

"Mr. J, you're worrying too much!" laughed Harley. "My parents are perfectly reasonable people who accept me for who I am!"

"No, they don't!" retorted Joker. "The last time we saw them you had to lie about being with me! You pretended you were still a doctor and I was your patient! I'm surprised you got up the courage to tell them we had kids!"

"Yeah, it wasn't easy," muttered Harley. "But they were happy for me, y'know. Despite it being…outta wedlock and…with a shegetz."

"What's a shegetz?" demanded Joker.

"It's another word for a non-Jew," she replied. "And its connotations have become much less derogatory in recent years. Anyway, it was my Dad's word, not mine. Mom was just thrilled for me. And Dad was…happy that I was happy," she finished.

Joker snorted. "I only met your Dad once, but I bet he ain't," he muttered. "I think the last time that guy was happy was probably before the second world war. And who can blame him? That Holocaust was a terrible tragedy for your people. I guess hating Nazis is one thing your Dad and I have in common…"

"You got your love for me in common too," said Harley, kissing him. "And the moment he meets 'em, your love for Arleen and J.J.," she said, bending down to kiss her children.

"But Harley, they do know they're coming for Christmas, right?" asked Joker. "They are expecting us to be celebrating it, with the tree and everything? And they're ok with that?"

Harley said nothing. "They will be," she said, firmly. "Once I've told 'em."

"You haven't told them?!" he demanded. "They're arriving tomorrow! Jesus, this is a disaster!" he said, throwing up his hands. "We gotta take down the decorations pronto! And Jesus, we gotta cut out any pork we were thinking of having for dinner! And I gotta stop saying Jesus!"

"Mr. J, there's no need to panic!" snapped Harley. "I'll tell 'em! I'll call 'em as soon as we get home, and they'll be fine with it, you'll see! Anyway, we can't very well have Leenie and J.J.'s first Christmas without any decorations or a tree or presents! What else is Christmas about?"

"It's about the birth of a guy a lotta people think is the son of God, but your people don't," retorted Joker. "But I guess if we tell your parents that we don't believe that, and that for us it's all just about the rampant commercialism, I'm sure that'll be fine."

They arrived back at the hideout to be greeted by Bud and Lou, their pet hyenas, who nuzzled Arleen and J.J. as their parents unbuckled them from the stroller. The moment the twins were free, they began rolling around and playing with Bud and Lou, who were just about a match for their energy level. The hyenas treated them as gently as their own cubs, not even playfully nipping for fear of hurting them, and lay still as the twins liked to crawl over them.

"It's about time you were back!" snapped Poison Ivy, emerging from the living room. "I've been waiting in this morgue of my children's dead and dying husks all afternoon!"

"Red, what are you doing here?" asked Harley, beaming as she embraced her best friend. "You should have called! How's the old place looking?" she asked, glancing at the garlands of holly and tinsel that covered every inch of the room. "Pretty Christmassy, huh?"

Ivy glared in fury at the centerpiece of death, in her mind – the brightly decorated, ten-foot-tall tree, with piles of presents stacked underneath it. "Yes, it's…certainly astonishing, Harley," she snapped. "Anyway, I've come to see you about a caper I'm planning for this weekend. I'm gonna show every worthless sack of meat in this city the penalty for buying a Christmas tree in my town. Not only do they murder my babies in their prime, but they rob them of dignity even in death, dressing them up like a gaudy French whore…except yours, of course, Harl, which looks great," she added, hastily.

"Aw, that sounds like a lotta fun, Red, but I can't," said Harley. "My folks are visiting."

"Did you know Harley was Jewish?" asked Joker.

"Of course I did, J," retorted Ivy, rolling her eyes. "But it doesn't surprise me you don't even know the most basic thing about your girlfriend. That would involve you listening and caring and taking an interest in her."

"Hey, she didn't give me any clues!" snapped Joker. "She's obsessed with Christmas, and that ain't very Jewish!"

"Her name's Harleen Quinzel," retorted Ivy. "And she says 'oy' a lot."

"That's a pretty crude stereotype," snapped Joker.

"Anyway, I ain't been a practicing Jew since I left home and went off to college," said Harley. "It ain't like I met Mr. J and he seduced me away from my sanity and my religion, like my Dad thinks…"

"Wait, why does your Dad think that?" demanded Joker.

"I dunno – he has crazy ideas," said Harley, shrugging. "That's where I get the crazy from – it's hereditary."

"I hope you corrected him," said Joker. "Told him that you hadn't been practicing for years before you met me."

"Well, you know it's no good arguing with my Dad," sighed Harley. "He'll think what he wants to think."

"Great. Which means I'm gonna be blamed for this whole Christmas fiasco, since you ain't got the guts to tell your parents it's your choice," snapped Joker.

"Yeah, that's right," agreed Ivy. "You shouldn't have a Christmas tree anyway, because they're barbaric, but you definitely can't have a Christmas tree if you're still gonna pretend to be Jewish."

"Why not?" demanded Harley. "And who said we're pretending to be Jewish? I'm gonna call my folks right now and tell 'em they're coming for Christmas at our place! Excuse me," she snapped, heading for the bedroom.

Arleen was still playing with Bud and Lou, but J.J. had crawled over to the potted poinsettia plants in the corner of the room. He tugged one flower free, then he crawled over to Ivy. "Gah gah?" he said, holding up the flower to her and beaming.

She smiled down at him, taking the flower. Then her face twisted in rage and she shouted, "DON'T EVER PICK FLOWERS!"

J.J. was stunned at her fury, and instantly began wailing. "Aw, what the hell is wrong with you, Weed Lady?" snapped Joker, picking him up and trying soothe him. "He was just trying to be nice! That's a good lesson for you, J.J. – don't be nice to people because they're all horrible and ungrateful," he said, kissing him. "But you're just a baby and you don't know any better, and you were just trying to show her that you liked her, weren't you?" he cooed. "But the mean old Plant Lady doesn't deserve kindness because she's a bitter, twisted, miserable dried up old prune, yes, she is!"

"Puddin', what happened?" asked Harley, rushing into the room and fussing over J.J. "Did he run into something again?"

"Yeah, your psycho friend," muttered Joker.

"It's never too early to teach your children respect for Mother Nature," snapped Ivy. "Not that they'll learn it in this graveyard of foliage," she said, glancing around. "I've gotta get outta here before I really snap!"

"Too late," muttered Joker.

"I'll see you later, Harl," Ivy continued, ignoring Joker and hugging her. "Good luck with the parents visit!"

"Yeah, thanks, Red!" called Harley as she left.

"Did you tell 'em about Christmas?" asked Joker as he put J.J. down to play with the hyenas again.

She sighed. "I ain't got the courage to pick up the phone yet," she murmured. "It was hard enough to tell 'em I had kids. They were happy for me, but you could tell they were disappointed that I wasn't…married, and didn't have a traditional life with a stable, normal home. I know this whole Christmas thing is just gonna be another blow to them, when they're already reeling from the first one. And the more I think about it, the more I don't want to put them through that."

"Well, you probably should have thought of that before you invited 'em," retorted Joker.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Anyway, there's nothing anybody can do to change it. I've built my life and family outside the faith, and I don't regret that."

"You could tell them I'm Jewish, if it helps," said Joker. "I don't remember my past – for all I know, I could be!"

"You ain't Jewish, puddin'," she retorted.

"How do you know?" he demanded.

She sighed. "How do I put this tactfully? The Big J hasn't had a tip snip."

He stared at her. "Boy, I know_ nothing_ about Jews," he muttered. "But they won't be seeing the Big J, at least I hope not. So you could always just lie to them."

"I've done enough lying to them," she replied. "Anyway, they might help change J.J.'s diaper or something, and then they'll know for sure. No, the best route is just to be honest and hope they'll accept me for who I am. That may be crazy, but I'm a crazy kinda gal," she sighed, heading off to call her parents.

Joker shrugged and then joined his children in playing on the floor with the hyenas. He was supposed to be doing some work planning a scheme to fight Batman, but that could wait. Right now, in his mind, there were more important things.


	3. Chapter 3

"George, promise me you'll behave," said Mrs. Gladys Quinzel, glancing at her husband from the passenger seat.

George Quinzel said nothing, his hands tightening on the steering wheel and glaring at the road ahead.

"George," repeated Mrs. Quinzel, firmly. "Promise me you'll behave."

Mr. Quinzel grunted. "No, you have to say it," snapped his wife. "'I promise to behave at our daughter's home for the duration of our stay during the holiday.'"

"During the non-Jewish holiday," muttered Mr. Quinzel.

"We're not going to make Harley feel guilty about that, are we?" asked Mrs. Quinzel. "We can't blame her for following her heart, can we?"

"Gladys, I wouldn't have a problem with her leaving the faith if I knew it was her decision," he muttered. "But I can't help but think it was probably due to the influence of…that clown."

"Yes, and that clown is the man her heart's led her to," retorted Mrs. Quinzel. "I know he's not all we hoped for for her, but if she's got a family with him now, there's not much we can do. Or should want to do. I wouldn't want her to be on her own again with children to take care of. If he helps support her and the kids, that's all we can ask. And as long as she's happy, that's our only concern."

"It's not my only concern," he snapped. "I wanna make sure my grandkids have a good upbringing. And do you honestly think they will, with that…that…lunatic for a father?"

"We'll have to see, won't we, George?" she asked. "We shouldn't judge him as a father just because his criminal record is…less than spotless. People can surprise you, y'know."

"People don't tend to surprise me," muttered Mr. Quinzel. "I usually assume they're gonna be scum, and they usually are. And that meshugener definitely is."

"You also have to promise not to call him that," snapped Mrs. Quinzel. "Whatever else he is, he's the father of our daughter's children. And if Harley accepts him, we should do our best to accept him too. If he's part of our daughter's family, he's part of ours."

Mr. Quinzel said nothing, but his hands tightened on the steering wheel again.

"I'm still waiting on that promise," said Mrs. Quinzel, lightly. "You're gonna give it before we arrive in Gotham."

"All right, all right, I promise to behave at Harley's!" he snapped. "But if that clown provokes me…"

"No, there's no conditions on your promise to behave," she retorted. "A promise is a promise."

"But what if he…"

"George!" snapped Mrs. Quinzel, firmly. "A promise is a promise!"

"All right!" he hissed. "But he _is _a meshugener," he muttered under his breath.

…

"All right, I'm just heading out to get a few last minute things for the big family dinner tonight," said Harley, emerging from the bedroom and pulling on her coat, hat, and scarf. She had spent the entire day cleaning the whole house, and looked around pleased at her handiwork. "I'll be back before my parents arrive. Puddin', don't forget to feed the babies while I'm out," she said, nodding at Arleen and J.J. who sat playing under the Christmas tree. J.J. was dressed in a specially tailored little red suit with a sprig of holly in the buttonhole, and Arleen had on a pretty red dress with some holly sprigs in her pigtails.

"You sure you don't just wanna go out somewhere tonight?" asked Joker. "You know you really can't cook, pumpkin…"

"Hey, if I keep trying, one of these days I'm bound to succeed," said Harley, shrugging.

"That hasn't been my experience," said Joker. "For your cooking or killing the Bat…"

"But you keep on trying, doncha, puddin'?" she said, kissing him. "You kiddies behave for your Daddy now!" she said, bending down to kiss them each in turn. "Oh, you both look so precious in your little Christmas outfits! Mommy will be back soon!"

"Guy guy, Mama!" said J.J., kissing her back.

"No dway, Mama!" said Arleen, clinging to her leg.

"Aw, here, precious, go see Daddy," said Harley, picking her up and nuzzling her, and then handing her to Joker. "Don't forget to feed them," she repeated, heading for the door. "Love you!"

She left, shutting the door behind her, and Joker scooped up J.J. in his free arm. "C'mon, kiddy-winks, let's get you fed!" he said. "Bud, Lou!" he whistled. "Feeding time!"

The hyenas raced after him, chuckling to themselves. Joker placed Arleen and J.J. into their high chairs, tying bibs around their necks, and then reached down to fill Bud and Lou's bowls with raw meat. He placed these on the ground, and the hyenas pounced, greedily devouring their meal. Joker then pulled out two jars of baby food, taking a seat in front of Arleen and J.J.'s highchairs.

"All right, who's hungry for…mashed carrots?" he said, reading the label and making a face. "Ugh, this can't taste very good."

He sighed, unscrewing the lids and dipping a spoon into each, holding them out in front of his children's mouths. They scrunched their faces up, firmly keeping their mouths shut and pulling away from the spoons.

"C'mon, kiddies!" he coaxed. "Open wide! Here comes the food plane, landing in little Jokers' mouths!" He made propeller noises as he moved the spoons up and down, but the children weren't convinced.

"No ucky, Dada!" protested J.J., and Arleen nodded her agreement, repeating, "No ucky!"

"Yeah, I'll be honest, this don't look great," said Joker, eyeing it distastefully. "What other food have we got in here for you?" he said, opening the cupboard and rifling around. "Mushed peas, mashed broccoli, stringed brussel sprouts?" he said, reading the labels. "Geez, no wonder people complain about kids being picky eaters! I wouldn't eat any of this crap either!"

He sighed, shutting the cupboard. "Let's see what we've got in here," he said, opening the freezer. "Oooh, ice cream! Do you kiddies like ice cream?" he asked, pulling out a tub.

They regarded it curiously. "Wha da, Dada?" asked J.J., pointing.

"Try it and see," he replied, holding out a spoonful to each of them.

The twins shared a look, and then opened their mouths. They shrieked a little at the cold, but soon the taste more than made up for it, and they were clapping and smiling and shouting, "Ore, Dada! Ore! Ore!"

"Yep, this is how real food tastes, kiddies!" chuckled Joker, feeding them more ice cream. "You shouldn't have to choke down that other stuff – the only good thing to do with it is…"

He was cut off as a glob of baby food was thrown into his face. Arleen giggled mischievously, covering her mouth with her food-coated hands, and Joker wiped the food from his cheek, grinning back. "You took the words right outta my mouth, sweetness," he murmured, reaching for the other jars.

…

Harley arrived home carrying a heavy bag of groceries in her arms. She kicked open the door to the hideout and called, "Puddin', I'm…"

But her face fell in horror as she saw the scene inside. The living room, which had been sparkling clean when she had left, was now covered in splashes of baby food. Arleen was perched on the sofa, throwing food at her brother, who was hiding behind the TV, and the Joker, who was taking a defensive position behind the Christmas tree. They were all three laughing and screaming, enjoying the food fight and completely oblivious to any damage they were causing. Bud and Lou were barking happily along with them, licking up stray bits of food and wagging their tails.

"What…on…earth is going on?!" Harley shrieked, dumping the bag of food on the floor.

"Pumpkin pie, you're home!" said Joker, beaming as he stood up, and was instantly pelted with food. "I was just feeding the kiddies, and we got a little carried away…"

"My parents are gonna be here any minute!" she screamed. "I spent all day getting this place looking nice, and now look at it! It's a pigsty! And look at the state of Leenie and J.J.! And their clothes! What on earth were you thinking?!"

Joker shrugged, wiping mashed carrots out of his eye. "Just…thought we were having a little fun."

Arleen and J.J. had stopped throwing food at their mother's angry tone, and now stared at her, confused and alarmed.

"Gah gah do, Mama?" asked J.J., tentatively.

Harley was furious, but didn't want to shout at the children. She drew a deep breath, hands shaking, and then glanced at her watch.

"We might have time for a quick bath…" she began, but then the doorbell rang.

"…or not," she finished. Her fury was joined by nervousness and apprehension and embarrassment as she headed for the door. Joker picked up the children, wiping off stray bits of food as best he could, as Harley opened the door.

"Mom! Dad!" she said, beaming a forced smile. "C'mon in!"


	4. Chapter 4

"Harley, baby, how are you?" said Mrs. Quinzel, hugging her daughter tightly. "Oh, it's been too long since we've seen you! Your father and I always miss you so much, don't we, George?"

"Yes, we do, Harley," agreed Mr. Quinzel, embracing his daughter and kissing her cheek. "But you're looking well."

"I am, Dad," she agreed. "Oh, it's so good to see you both! Come on inside and meet the family!" she said, gesturing inside.

Her parents entered and froze at the remains of the chaos displayed before them. "You remember Mr. J?" said Harley, smiling and trying to pretend that nothing was wrong.

"Hi, good to see you both again!" said Joker, beaming.

"These are our pets, Bud and Lou," she said, gesturing to the hyenas, who were sniffing her parents warily. Harley's parents looked at them equally warily until the hyenas yipped happily and then licked them in greeting.

"And these are your grandkids! This is Arleen, and J.J.," said Harley, gesturing at them. "They've just had a little foodfight with their father, so try to ignore the…vegetable mush."

"What does J.J. stand for?" asked her father, slowly.

"Joker Junior, of course," said Harley.

"I see," he muttered. Mrs. Quinzel was cooing over the children, who gazed up at her in wonder.

"Oh, they're just so adorable, Harley!" she said, beaming at them. "Hello, angels, I'm grandma," she said. "Can you say grandma?"

"Gwanna," said Arleen, holding out a chubby fist and smiling.

"They love meeting new people – they're really friendly!" said Harley. "Aren't you, sweeties?"

"Lellie oh!" said J.J., smiling as he returned his grandmother's kisses.

"Oh, they're just so precious!" Mrs. Quinzel cooed.

"You wanna hold 'em?" asked Joker, passing the children across to Mrs. Quinzel. "Mind the food blobs on your nice clothes there…"

"Oh yes, hi, babies!" she cooed, rocking them. "Come and see them, George!"

Mr. Quinzel joined his wife, and couldn't suppress a smile at seeing his grandchildren. "Little Arleen looks just like Harley did at her age," he said, stroking her cheek. "And J.J. is quite…a handsome young man."

"Beda lee!" said J.J., holding out his arms to his grandfather.

Mr. Quinzel took him, smiling down at his happy face. "He's got your eyes, Harley."

"Yeah, they both do," she agreed, stroking Arleen's hair back. "Got their Daddy's smile though. That's why they're so beautiful."

She kissed Joker, and J.J. suddenly started crying. "Aw, I think you're holding him a bit too tightly, Dad," said Harley, hurrying to see to J.J. Mr. Quinzel had unconsciously found himself tensing up in anger at seeing his daughter kiss the Joker, and his grip on J.J. had been harder than he'd originally intended. He soothed him gently, feeling terrible that he had taken his fury out on the child, however unintentionally. The son may resemble his father, but he was certainly innocent of his crimes.

J.J. wiped a bit of baby food from his shirt onto his hand, and held it up to his grandfather. "Gah gah?" he said, smiling.

"No, thank you, sweetie, Grandpa doesn't want that," said Harley, taking J.J. from him. "Why don't I take you and your sister to get a quick bath and change you into some non-food-dyed clothes, and leave your Daddy here to get to know your grandparents?"

"Oh, I can take the kids for a bath, Harl…" began Joker.

"No, no, you can stay here and entertain my folks," she said, heading for the door. "It'll be good for you all to talk and get to know each other better. Y'know, my parents probably only really know you from the papers – it'll be good for them to experience the real you."

She shut the door to the bathroom, leaving the Joker and her parents alone.

"So…either of you want a drink?" asked Joker, smiling. "Unless your people don't drink – I don't wanna offend you," he added, hastily. "Do your people drink? Is it offensive for me to ask that?"

"Uh…no," said Mrs. Quinzel, slowly. "That is, it's not offensive to ask, and yes, we do occasionally drink."

"Great! What's your poison?" he asked, heading over to the bar.

"I hope that's a figure of speech," muttered Mr. Quinzel.

Joker laughed. "Good joke, Mr. Q! Got a sense of humor, huh?" he asked, turning to smile at him. His face fell when he saw Mr. Quinzel wasn't smiling. "Oh…you were serious," he said, slowly. Then he laughed. "Well, I may be a homicidal lunatic, but I ain't gonna murder my own in-laws! Well, not unless you really bug me, like the stereotypical in-laws!" he chuckled. "But I certainly wouldn't kill anyone with poison – that ain't really my style. Unless Joker toxin counts. I like the people I kill to know they've been served up a Joker special – poison's just a bit too subtle for me. I ain't a subtle guy."

He finished mixing two cocktails and handed them to Harley's parents. "There ya go! Two Joker specials! Oh, not like the Joker special I was talking about earlier," he added, hastily. "This won't make you laugh uncontrollably and die with a permanent grin on your face."

"Well…thank you, Joker," said Mrs. Quinzel, as her husband eyed the cocktails suspiciously.

"Oh please, call me J," he said. "Or, y'know, son, if you prefer!" he chuckled.

"I most certainly do not," snapped Mr. Quinzel. His wife elbowed him the ribs.

"Shall we make a toast?" she said, raising her glass. "J?"

"Oh yeah, yeah, sure, Mrs. Q," Joker said. "Uh…mazel tov! Next year in Jerusalem! L'Chiam! _To life, to life, l'chiam! L'chiam, l'chiam, to life!_ Bet you guys like that _Fiddler on the Roof_ musical, huh? _If I were a rich man, yubby dibby dibby dibby dibby dibby dibby dum, all day long I'd biddy biddy bum, if I were a wealthy man. I wouldn't have to work hard, ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum, if I were a biddy biddy rich, idle-diddle-daidle-daidle man_!"

The Joker had been singing, and doing an approximation of Tevye's dance, which caused Harley's parents to stare at him in concern, and Bud and Lou to start whimpering in terror.

"…yeah, I just watched that movie in preparation for your arrival, so it's stuck in my head," explained Joker, noticing the looks he was getting.

"Why don't we just…stop dancing and sit down?" suggested Mrs. Quinzel.

"Yeah, good idea, Mrs. Q. Probably best," said Joker, taking a seat across from them on the sofa. An awkward silence descended on them, until the Joker spoke up at last.

"Sorry about the Holocaust," he said. "If it's any consolation, I hate Nazis too."

"…yes, all decent people do," muttered Mr. Quinzel.

"Aw, you think I'm decent! I'm touched, Mr. Q, I really am!" chuckled Joker. "I think that's one of the nicest things I've ever been called! And that's progress, right?"

Neither of them knew how to respond to that, but fortunately they were spared the trouble by Harley re-entering the room with a freshly cleaned and changed Arleen and J.J. "There now, you can see your grandkids without goo all over them," she said, handing them to her parents. "What was that noise I heard in here earlier?"

"I think that was the father of your children," said Mr. Quinzel, lightly. "Singing and dancing."

"It was _Fiddler on the Roof_," explained Joker. "Thought it'd make them feel at home!"

Harley looked at him in confusion. "They live in an apartment in Brooklyn, not Anatevka, puddin'," she retorted.

"Well, y'know, memories of the homeland," he said, shrugging.

"These are very interesting…dogs you have, Harley," said Mr. Quinzel, eyeing the hyenas as they curled up at their feet.

"They're hyenas, Dad," said Harley, bending down to pet them.

He stared at her. "Hyenas?" he repeated. "You mean…they're wild animals?"

"Nah, Bud and Lou couldn't survive in the wild!" chuckled Joker. "I had them imported over here as puppies. They're completely domesticated. Well, they can devour a whole animal carcass in under a minute, and if they're really provoked, they kill people, but they're harmless, really," he said, scratching their bellies. "And they just love the kiddies."

"Bug a roo," said J.J., pointing at the hyenas.

"Rawr rawr," agreed Arleen.

"You mean…you let the children play with wild animals?" said Mr. Quinzel, slowly.

"Well, as Mr. J just said, they're not wild," retorted Harley. "And you should see 'em with the kids. They just adore them."

"All the same, I'm not sure it's such a good idea," said Mrs. Quinzel, gently. "You know they say wild animals can never be fully tamed."

"They say that about wild people too, but some people still try," muttered Mr. Quinzel, knocking back his drink.

There was an awkward tension in the air again, which Harley relieved by standing up. "Well, why don't I start dinner?"

"No, no, I'll cook, Harley," said Joker firmly, pressing her forcefully back down on the sofa. "You stay here with the kids and your parents. She's a terrible cook anyway – she'd screw the whole thing up somehow!" he chuckled.

"Puddin', that's not a very nice thing to say about me in front of my parents!" hissed Harley.

"It's true!" he said, defensively. "They must know it's true! She must have cooked for you before, right?" he asked them. "Back me up here! It always tastes like crap!"

"I'll admit Harley has things she's better at than cooking," agreed Mr. Quinzel. "Although her taste in men isn't one of them."

"George, promise!" reminded Mrs. Quinzel.

"I'm sorry, Gladys, but I'm not going to let this meshugener insult our daughter and laugh it off like some joke!" he snapped. "Even if that's how he sees everything, including his life and his family!"

Joker said nothing. "Well, I admire your chutzpah, Mr. Q," he said at last. "But if all you're gonna do is kvetch at me, I'll schlep off to the kitchen now and save myself the tsuris. Hope the oven don't glitch and leave us with nothing but drek!" he laughed, heading off.

Harley buried her face in her hands. It was gonna be a long visit.


	5. Chapter 5

"All right, grub's up! And it's kosher!" said Joker, popping his head back into the living room later.

Bud and Lou had followed the Joker into the kitchen when he had initially left, so it was just the Quinzels, Harley, and Arleen and J.J. left in the living room, playing and talking and looking the picture of a normal family. Mr. Quinzel appeared to have forgotten that Joker was even part of the family, because he'd been smiling, but his face fell when he was once again reminded of his presence.

Harley took the children and placed them into their highchairs in the dining room, as Joker returned to the kitchen. Bud and Lou settled themselves under the dining room table, until Harley grabbed them by their collars. "Think you two might wanna eat outside tonight, huh?" she asked, pulling them toward the back door. "Don't want you under there begging for scraps!"

It almost broke her heart to have to lock her fur babies outside, but she knew her parents wouldn't approve of wild animals at the dinner table, and she decided not to put them through any more unnecessary agitation.

"Here's the first course – chicken liver terrine!" said Joker, serving up some small plates.

"What's a terrine, puddin'?" asked Harley, puzzled and impressed. She didn't know Joker could cook, let alone cook meals with fancy names.

His smile looked a little forced. "It's…what this is, Harl," he said, placing it in front of her. "Just enjoy it while I try to find some more baby food for the kids. Some of it must have survived the fight…"

He re-entered the kitchen, shutting the door, and then headed over to where a frightened man in a chef's outfit slaved over the oven. "Hey, buddy, what's a terrine?" he demanded.

"It's…it's like a pate," stammered the chef.

"And what's a pate?" demanded Joker.

"It's…a paste made from meat," said the chef.

"Not pork, though, right?" demanded Joker, picking up the butcher's knife by the chef and studying it casually.

"N…no, Mr. Joker, I swear, this meal is completely kosher!" said the terrified man, desperately. "I'm Jewish myself, and you know I work in a kosher restaurant, because that's where you kidnapped me from…"

"I know, sport, I'm just messing with you!" chuckled Joker, clapping him on the back. "Now you just keep the nice, kosher food coming and you might live to see the old restaurant again, k? K!" he chuckled, grabbing some jars of baby food from the back of the cupboard. "I'll be back in about twenty minutes for the main course, so it'd better be ready, or else!" he chuckled, burying the butcher knife into the cutting board in front of the terrified chef.

"How's the terrine, which is like a pate not made from pork?" Joker asked, beaming as he re-entered the dining room and shutting the kitchen door hastily.

He had interrupted Mr. Quinzel in the middle of speaking, and he glared up at him. "Dad's just saying a quick prayer before we start eating," whispered Harley.

"Oh…sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt," whispered Joker. "You go ahead, Mr. Q."

Mr. Quinzel began the prayer again, reciting some words in Hebrew. Harley and her mother sat with their hands clasped and heads bowed, but Joker stood up, leaning across the table and striking a match to light the candles.

Mr. Quinzel glared up at him again. "Sorry, I thought some mood lighting might help…" began Joker.

"Sitting down and being silent and still would help," retorted Mr. Quinzel.

"Gotcha, Mr. Q, say no more!" said Joker, taking a seat. Mr. Quinzel began the prayer for the third time, and Joker caught Harley's eye. She smiled at him, and he blew her a kiss. She grinned and blew one back. He pretended to catch it, and then slowly opened his hands, and mimed it hitting him in the eye. Harley couldn't suppress a giggle, and her father looked up again.

"Sorry, Mr. Q…" began Joker.

"It's fine – I'm done," he snapped, reaching for his fork. Everyone was silent as they tried the starter.

"It's really good, puddin'," said Harley, sincerely.

"Yes, you're a very talented chef, J," said Mrs. Quinzel, kindly. "Isn't he, George?"

"Yes, he is," agreed Mr. Quinzel. "At least my daughter isn't starving with you."

"Nope, and neither are the kiddies!" chuckled Joker, taking a seat next to Arleen and J.J. and unscrewing the jars of baby food. "All right now, babies, c'mon! We've had our fun with this crap, but now it's time to eat it."

They both scrunched up their faces again, shaking their heads. "Aw, c'mon, for Daddy!" he pleaded. "Tell you what – I'll eat some if you'll eat some, how about that?"

J.J. crossed his arms, looking unimpressed. "Go da, Dada," he said.

"All right, then!" snapped Joker, eating a spoonful himself. His face twisted into an expression of disgust, but he tried to keep smiling through it. "Mmm, that's good eating!" he gasped.

Arleen giggled at the expression on her father's face, and opened her mouth. "Atta girl!" exclaimed Joker, feeding her a spoonful. "J.J.?"

J.J. shut his eyes tightly, but reluctantly opened his mouth as Joker fed him a spoonful. "All right, my turn again!" he said, swallowing another spoonful. He made another face which sent the children into hysterics of laughter, and they opened their mouths in turn.

"He's very good with the children, Harley," said Mrs. Quinzel, watching them.

"Yeah, he is," agreed Harley, beaming. "They just love him, Mom. And so do I."

Mr. Quinzel said nothing, but he watched the scene with a softened expression on his face.

"Ok, now Daddy is gonna go…to the toilet," said Joker, standing up after the jars were emptied and gagging slightly. "And then he's gonna get the next course for your Mommy and grandparents!"

"Aren't you gonna eat too, puddin'?" asked Harley, concerned.

"Nah…I don't think I'll be able to eat anything else for…a little while, Harley," said Joker, heading for the toilet. "Won't be able to keep it down anyway."

He opened the door to the kitchen and slid in discreetly. "Next course ready?" he demanded of the terrified chef.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Joker, sir," stammered the chef. "I'm just taking out the brisket now…"

"Oooh, looks good!" said Joker, as the chef pulled out a roast from the oven. "Better hope it tastes as good as it looks, or you'll be able to see if yours is the one true God a lot sooner than you'd hoped!" he chuckled, grabbing the carving knife and heading for the door.

"Who wants brisket?" he said, emerging into the dining room.

"Oh, wow, puddin'!" exclaimed Harley. "That's beautiful! I should let you do the cooking more often!"

"He makes you cook for him?" demanded Mr. Quinzel.

"I like getting the practice," said Harley. "It's something I want to do, not something I have to do. Obviously," she said, nodding at the brisket.

Joker began carving up the meat. "You make carving look so easy, J," said Mrs. Quinzel, smiling.

"Oh, well, I've had lots of practice, Mrs. Q," he said, smiling. "Mind you, a piece of cooked meat is a lot easier than what I'm used to carving up. Much more tender. And much less screaming and struggling!" he laughed.

Mrs. Quinzel was about to ask what he was used to carving up, but decided she didn't really want to know.

"So Harley, are you going to teach the children about their Jewish heritage and culture?" asked Mr. Quinzel. "When they're old enough, of course."

"Oh, sure, Dad," agreed Harley. "I mean, they won't be raised in the faith, but I think it's important for everyone to know who they are and where they come from. Family background and history help define who you are, after all."

"Except in my case," said Joker, nodding. "But then I guess I'm pretty indefinable!" he chuckled.

"Don't you know your family history, J?" asked Mrs. Quinzel.

"Nah, Mrs. Q," he said, shaking his head. "I don't even remember much about my own past, let alone my family's past! The…accident I suffered when I became the Joker erased most of my memory."

"You mean you have a whole life you can't remember?" asked Mrs. Quinzel, surprised.

"Yep," said Joker, shrugging. "But if I can't remember it, does it really matter?"

"It depends," said Mr. Quinzel. "What if you had a family? A wife and children? Wouldn't you want to be responsible for them, even if you don't remember them?"

"I guess," said Joker. "But nobody's come forward to claim they're my wife or kids, so I guess I'm home free!" he chuckled.

Mr. Quinzel was clearly not pleased with his answer. "And suppose you had another memory lapse one day," he said, lightly. "And you forgot about Harley and your kids. They would just be out of sight and out of mind for you, huh?"

"Oh, I don't think Harley would ever let me forget her!" chuckled Joker, pinching her cheek. "She's a pretty determined dame, and not the kind to give up easily!"

"Yes, even on a lost cause," agreed Mr. Quinzel.

Joker forced a laugh. "Good one, Mr. Q," he said. "Y'know, you've done nothing but kvetch since you got here…"

"Stop talking like us!" snapped Mr. Quinzel.

"I'll talk how I wanna!" snapped Joker. "You don't own the language, buddy! And I've had just about enough of the attitude from you, pal! You'd better watch it, because I ain't used to being spoken to like that!"

"What, are you threatening me?" demanded Mr. Quinzel. "You think I'm afraid of you? What possible torture could you inflict on me that's worse than seeing my own daughter with the likes of you, some murdering meshugener?!"

"Stop calling me that!" shouted Joker. Arleen and J.J. both started bawling at hearing their father's angry voice, and Harley stood up to comfort them.

"Mr. J, please, calm down," she begged.

"George, you stop it at once!" snapped Mrs. Quinzel. "You promised!"

The two men glared at each other, and then the Joker turned away, striding toward the kitchen. "Just gonna check on dessert," he muttered.

He had intended to take his temper out by beating up the chef some, after he had finished preparing the dessert, of course. But he was surprised and annoyed to see a different figure standing in the kitchen, with the timid chef cowering behind him.

"Aw, not you!" he snapped. "I need a dessert to cool everyone down out there! C'mon, pal, just finish the meal for me! I was gonna let him go after dessert, Bats, I promise!"

"You've done some crazy schemes in your time," growled Batman. "Schemes that defy reason or explanation. But I honestly cannot see any reason for you to have kidnapped a kosher chef and made him cook for you! Where's the joke in that?"

"It ain't a joke, Bats!" snapped Joker. "It ain't anything remotely that fun! My Jewish in-laws are visiting for the holidays, and I sure as hell ain't gonna make them choke down Harley's terrible cooking!"

Batman stared at him. "That's…almost rational," he muttered. "But you still can't kidnap people, Joker."

"How else am I gonna get people to do things for me?" he demanded.

Batman sighed. "C'mon," he said, taking the chef's hand and leading him to the window. "We're leaving now."

"But what about dessert?" protested Joker.

"The lemon sorbet is prepared and in the freezer," said the chef. "Just serve that with some chopped fruit."

"And where's that?" asked Joker.

"Uh…in the fridge," said the chef, slowly.

"I guess it's kinda a moot point anyway," sighed Joker. "Because Bats is just gonna drag me off to Arkham now, aren't ya, Bats?"

"No, I've got a better punishment for you," said Batman, with a hint of amusement in his voice. "I'm going to leave you here with your in-laws."

He left with the chef, slamming the window shut after him. Joker sighed, heading for the freezer, muttering, "Calls himself a pal! Y'know, I'm beginning to have some serious doubts about our friendship…"


	6. Chapter 6

"Oy, what an evening!" exclaimed Harley, shutting the door to her and the Joker's bedroom. She had just put the twins to bed in their cribs, after seeing that her parents were settled comfortably in the guest room, and went over to check the baby monitor was working, in case the children needed them during the night. "I will sleep like a baby tonight!"

"Assuming our babies sleep like babies tonight," agreed Joker, who was sitting up in bed, sketching out plans for his latest scheme for Batman. After his behavior this evening, it had become personal.

"I imagine they're tuckered out from that food-fight earlier," replied Harley. "Not to mention the crying…"

She climbed into bed next to him, kissing his cheek. "Thanks for controlling your temper around Dad. I know he can be a bit trying sometimes…"

"Yeah, he better cut it out, or I won't be responsible for my actions," snapped Joker.

Harley was silent. "Try to see it from his point of view, Mr. J," she murmured. "You're a father now. Imagine if Leenie grew up to date a guy…you didn't think was any good for her."

"I would understand that it was her decision," he snapped. "And I would love and respect her enough to trust her judgment in making decisions. Although I would warn her fair and square that if I found out that the guy mistreats her in any way, he won't live long enough to regret it."

"Well, Dad reads the papers," said Harley, shrugging. "And they claim that you mistreat me. Y'know the media don't understand our mutual love of pain and violence, so they always paint you out to be some abusive, heartless monster. I know it's not true, but Dad doesn't."

"Has he seen any evidence of it?" demanded Joker.

"He tends to think the worst of people," she said. "And, y'know, you do kill people for fun. You can't expect normal people to share our sense of humor about that. Bats don't, and he's your best friend!"

"I used to think that," growled Joker. "But now I'm not so sure. Anyway, I doubt your Dad and I will ever be best friends."

"I don't expect you to be," replied Harley. "I just don't want you to be constantly at each other's throats."

"Then maybe he'd better cheer the hell up and learn to grin and bear our relationship," retorted Joker.

"He will – Mom's promised to talk to him, and I will too," said Harley. "But he's never been able to control his temper, or avoid expressing his feelings when he feels strongly about something. Quinzel family trait," she said, kissing him.

"Great. I got one of 'em who loathes me with a fiery passion, and another who loves me with a fiery passion," muttered Joker. "I dunno which is worse. How does your Mom feel about me?"

"She married into the family – she doesn't share the uncontrollably strong emotion thing," retorted Harley. "Though she was pretty impressed at how good you are with the kids. I think people just naturally assume you won't be a good father."

"Why wouldn't I be?" asked Joker. "Kids are way more fun than adults. They laugh at anything, they're only concerned with being happy, and they're too young to have a moral compass. I can relate to that. Plus they got half of me in them. How could I not love half of me?"

"It makes sense to me, puddin', but I always knew you'd be a great Daddy," replied Harley, kissing him again. "You've been a great Daddy to me all these years."

Joker chuckled, kissing her cheek and returning his attention back to his plans. Harley picked up a book, sighing again. "Oy vey, I see why everyone complains about holiday stress now," she said. "I'm just about ready to plotz from the tsuris."

Joker turned to look at her. "Y'know, you become more Jewish when your parents are around," he said.

"I can't become more Jewish, puddin', don't be mishegas, you yutz," she retorted. "You sound like a schmendrik. Maybe being around them again has brought back the odd Yiddish word or two, but I still mostly schmooze like a goy."

He shrugged, focusing back on his plans. "Do you mind it?" she asked.

"No," he replied. "In fact, to tell you the truth…I kinda find it…weirdly hot."

Harley stared at him. "You find me using Yiddish words hot?"

"Yeah, kinda," he agreed. "I dunno why, though. There's just something about it, and the way you do it…"

She grinned. "You really are a meshugener, aren't you?"

"See, when your Dad calls me that, it's offensive," snapped Joker. "But when you call me that…"

"What?" she pressed, cuddling closer to him and whispering in his ear. "What does it do to you, you naughty shegetz? You wanna talk a little schmutz with your shiksa, while she does some dirty things with your schmuck, you bad, bad goyim?"

Joker threw the plans he had been working on off the bed and seized Harley. "Oy vey, baby!" he gasped, kissing her and slamming her down on the mattress.

Harley briefly wondered, as she pulled Joker down on top of her, if Yiddish had ever been used to seduce a guy before. First time for everything, she figured, and thought no more about it.


	7. Chapter 7

J.J. woke up in the early hours of the morning, realizing he was in his crib. He didn't much care for his crib – like his parents, being surrounded by bars provoked in him a desire to be free of them. He could cry, but it was likely his parents would come running, comfort him, and then just put him back in his crib, which was impressive reasoning for a child his age. Instead he struggled up on all fours, crawling over to the bars and looking for a way out. He spotted the release switch which lowered the bars of the crib and managed, after a few tries, to punch it down. He leaned over, looking out at the drop below, which fortunately wasn't very high, and also had a pile of stuffed animals underneath, and decided to chance it. He landed on his backside with a bump among the toys, and then crawled over to his sister's crib next to his.

"Weenie!" he whispered. "Weenie!"

She was fast asleep, hugging her cuddly princess doll, which draped its arm through the bar of her crib. J.J. managed to prop himself up against the crib, standing on his tip toes and reaching for the doll's arm. He yanked down sharply, pulling the doll out of her grip.

She awoke instantly, about to start wailing, when J.J. called, "Weenie!"

She looked down at him. "Me goll!" she said, pointing at the doll. "Wah wah do?"

"Da da," he said, pointing at her switch. "Bam bam!"

She obeyed, punching the switch. "Fa dow," she said, pointing at the drop. "Ickle wham."

J.J. held out his arms. "Me go do!" he said.

Arleen shook her head. "Nah nah."

"Me go do!" he repeated. She looked from him to her doll, and then crawled out of the crib. Her brother attempted to catch her, but she landed on top of him instead.

"Me goll," she repeated, picking herself up and picking up her doll, hugging it tightly.

J.J. struggled up on all fours again, crawling toward the door, which was always left open in case the baby monitor failed. Arleen popped her doll's arm in her mouth and followed him out of the room.

"Wah Mama an Dada?" asked Arleen as they crawled along the darkened hall.

"Da doo," said J.J., nodding at the closed door in front of them.

"Gah gah?" asked Arleen, pointing at the door handle.

J.J. studied it, and then lay down on the floor. "Go do," he said.

Arleen climbed on top of him and he crawled up on all fours. "Nah nah," she said, straining for the door knob, which was just out of reach.

"Goll," said J.J. Arleen put the doll on top of J.J.'s back, and then climbed on top of him again. She balanced on the doll and managed to reach the door knob, turning it and pushing the door open. They both fell into the room.

Their parents were sleeping peacefully in their bed, oblivious to the twins' antics. They crawled toward the bed, looking up at it and wondering how to get there.

J.J. reached out and grabbed a corner of the blanket that hung over the edge. "Gah gah," he said, nodding at his sister, who did the same. They tugged on the blanket, pulling it off Joker's side.

He murmured in his sleep. "God dammit, Harley, stop stealing all the goddamn covers," he muttered, grabbing hold of it and rolling over, pulling the blanket back over to his side, and the twins up onto the bed with them.

"Mama," said J.J., crawling over to her and curling up into her arms, while Arleen crawled over to Joker.

"Dada," she sighed, cuddling her doll and snuggling against him.

Joker opened his eyes. "Hey, Princess," he murmured, yawning. "How did you get here?"

Then he woke up. "Seriously, how did you get here?" he asked, sitting up and looking around the room.

He shook Harley awake. "Hey, the kiddies are here!"

"Mmm…what?" murmured Harley, opening her eyes slowly.

"Ga goo, Mama!" said J.J., smiling at her.

"J.J., what are you doing here?" she asked, waking up suddenly and hurriedly pulling on her pajamas. "I was sure we shut the door, so my folks wouldn't hear what we were doing…"

"We definitely did," agreed Joker, standing up and pulling on his own pajamas. He headed out of the room and back into the twins' room, and then returned.

"Well, either your folks did it, or the kiddies share my genius and figured out how to get outta their cribs and open our door," he said. "And since your folks aren't nuts, I'm gonna assume it's the latter."

"But they're just babies, puddin'!" gasped Harley, staring at her children. "How could they be that smart?"

"Well, I am their father," he said, beaming. "Who's my little geniuses?" he cooed, climbing back into bed and nuzzling them.

"I think they share my determination too, puddin'," said Harley, curling up next to them. "If they want something bad enough, they'll figure out a way to get it."

"Ickle goo, Mama," agreed J.J.

"Wha da, Dada?" asked Arleen, pointing out the window.

Joker turned to see snowflakes drifting past the glass. "That's snow, Princess," he said.

"So," she repeated. "Wow!"

"Wow is right!" he chuckled, kissing her. He glanced at the clock. "Well, it's after midnight," he yawned. "So Merry Christmas, Harl."

"Merry Christmas, puddin'," she murmured, kissing him, and then their children, who had curled up in between them. "I can't think of a better way to start it than cuddled up with my family."

And as the snow fell outside and they all drifted off to sleep, Joker had to agree with her.


	8. Chapter 8

"Morning, Mr. and Mrs. Q, and Merry…morning!" exclaimed Joker, as he and Harley entered the living room, carrying the twins.

"Puddin', my parents ain't gonna mind if we wish them a Merry Christmas," said Harley, as she embraced them.

"Of course we won't," said Mrs. Quinzel, kissing her daughter and grandchildren. "We may not celebrate it, but why would anyone be offended by good wishes?"

"I think you'd be surprised at what some people take offense at," retorted Joker. "Especially if they're looking to be offended."

He glanced at Mr. Quinzel, who just glared at him. But Mrs. Quinzel hugged Joker, kissing his cheek. "George has something he'd like to say to you this morning, J," she said, smiling at him. "Don't you, George?" she asked, turning to her husband pointedly.

Mr. Quinzel shrugged, his arms folded across his chest. "George!" she hissed.

"I'm sorry…for my behavior last night," he muttered, glaring at the floor. "I said some rude things which were…uncalled for. You seem to make my daughter very happy, though God knows why, and I should accept that with good grace."

"Aw, well, consider yourself forgiven, Mr. Q!" said Joker, smiling at him. "If I can't forgive people on this day, when can I forgive them? I'm just like Jesus…that delusional yutz," he added, hastily.

"Wa bug a roo?" asked J.J., looking around.

"Oh, Bud and Lou are outside, sweetie," cooed Harley. "As wild animals should be. Geez, I hope it's not too cold for them out there," she said, heading toward the back door.

She pushed it open, her breath showing in frosty air. "Brr," said Arleen, cuddling against her mother.

Bud and Lou didn't appear to be cold, however – they were playing in the snow, romping over the huge drifts and looking happier than a dog at the beach, their tails wagging and tongues lolling. They barked happily at seeing Harley, racing over to her and nuzzling her.

"That's a great idea, babies!" said Harley, petting them. "We should all get dressed and play in the snow!"

"You do that, Harley," said Mrs. Quinzel. "I'm gonna bake some latkes and then start on this family dinner. It'll be my treat this time, though I'm sure it won't top J's effort last night."

"Aw, it was nothing, Mrs. Q," he said, grinning.

"George, are you helping me in the kitchen or playing outside with Harley and J and the kids?" asked Mrs. Quinzel, raising her voice pointedly at the latter option.

"Actually, I'd rather help you, Gladys…" he began.

"No, you'd rather play outside with Harley and J and the kids!" snapped Mrs. Quinzel. "Wouldn't you, George?"

He sighed. "Yes, dear," he muttered.

"Well, at least I ain't whipped by my wife," chuckled Joker.

"Puddin', go dress Leenie and J.J. while I show Mom around the kitchen. Plenty of layers now," said Harley, handing the babies to him.

"I ain't whipped – I was gonna do that anyway," retorted Joker, heading off to obey her with Mr. Quinzel smiling smugly after him.

…

"All right, kiddies! Who wants to build a snowbatman?" asked Joker, beginning to roll some snow as Arleen and J.J. played with Bud and Lou in the drifts under the watchful eye of their mother.

"What's the difference between that and a regular snowman?" asked Mr. Quinzel.

"You put bat ears on it, and then you can beat the crap outta it," replied Joker, packing the snow together.

"Oh puddin', I think we still got that spare cowl somewhere from the time you trapped the Bat's cape in that giant set of chattering teeth and it ripped it off," said Harley. "I remember you canceled the whole scheme and refused to open your eyes until he had got safely away. Which was stupid, because it was too dark to see his face anyway."

"Better safe than sorry, Harl," he retorted.

"Why don't you wanna see who Batman is?" asked Mr. Quinzel, puzzled.

"Because it would ruin the joke if I knew who he was," snapped Joker. "It would probably explain why he dresses up as a bat. I wanna preserve the mystery. Joke's no fun if you explain it, after all."

"But wouldn't it be easier for you to…kill him if you knew who he was?" asked Mr. Quinzel.

Joker stared at him. "Well, yeah," he retorted. "But I don't wanna kill him."

"Oh. I kinda thought…that's why you fight him all the time," said Mr. Quinzel, slowly.

Joker shook his head. "Nah. I fight him because it's fun. Wouldn't be fun if I killed him, though – the game would be over. The fun's in the trying, not in the end result. Y'know, like that saying – happiness is in the journey, not the destination."

He stacked another ball of snow on top of his initial one. Harley was showing Arleen and J.J. how to make snow angels as they rolled around in the snow. "Dad, can you watch the kids for a second while I find that cowl?" she asked, sitting up and dusting the snow off her back.

"Oh, here, Mr. Q, you take over the snowbatman," said Joker, handing him the snowball he had done for the head. "I'll handle the kiddies."

Mr. Quinzel reluctantly began packing snow onto the head, watching Joker out of the corner of his eye. "That's a beautiful snow angel, Princess!" he exclaimed as Arleen waved her arms and legs. "But of course it comes from a real angel, so it should be, yes it should!" he cooed, picking her up and giving her an eskimo kiss. "C'mon, let's give that angel some eyes," he said, holding her by her arms and letting her print her feet into it. "And a nose," he said, guiding her finger in a line down the face. "And a nice, big, pretty smile!" he exclaimed, guiding her finger into a curve. "What a happy angel! Just like my happy angel!" he said, kissing her.

She giggled in delight, covering her father in kisses. J.J. had become bored with snow angels and crawled over to the snowman, staring up at it in wonder. "Wha da, Dada?" he asked, turning to his father and pointing at the snowman.

"That's gonna be a snowbatman, as soon as your Mommy comes back," said Joker, carrying Arleen over. "Go ahead, Mr. Q – put on the head!"

Mr. Quinzel placed the final ball on top of the snowman, just as Harley emerged from the house with a long, black cowl and cape. "Here you go, J.J. – do the honors!" said Joker, handing Arleen to her mother and handing J.J. the cowl. Joker picked him up and J.J. placed the cowl on top of the snowman's head. Bud and Lou began growling at it, recognizing the scent.

"All right, now let's give him his second most prominent feature, aside from the cape and cowl," said Joker, guiding J.J.'s finger to the face. "A big, mean, old frown."

"Boo!" said J.J.

"Boo is right," agreed Joker. "What a mean snowbatman! I think he deserves a punch! C'mon, slugger, try it!" he said to J.J. "Make a fist and then go bam!"

"Bam bam!" cried J.J., throwing a weak punch at the snowman's face.

"C'mon, Leenie, you try too," said Harley, picking up her daughter and holding her out to the snowman. She began hitting it, barely making a dent in the snow.

Then J.J. began crying. "No wike, Dada!" he sobbed.

"Aw, ok, sweetness – Daddy will get rid of the mean old snowbatman," said Joker, kissing him. "Watch and learn."

He put J.J. on the ground, and then shouted, "Eat fist, Bats!"

He punched the snowman right through the face. J.J. immediately cheered up, giggling and clapping. "Yay, Dada!" he cried.

Joker continued to beat the snowman, with his kids and Harley cheering him on, until it was reduced to a small pile of snow, which the children began to stomp on. Bud and Lou seized the cape and cowl and began tugging it between them.

"All right, who wants latkes and hot cocoa?" called Mrs. Quinzel, popping her head outside.

"Perfect timing, Mrs. Q!" said Joker, beaming. "C'mon, kiddies, let's get you warmed up in front of the fire. Look at your cute, rosy cheeks!" he cooed as he and Harley carried them in. "You must be frozen! You look just like Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer! You remember that song?"

He began singing and clapping along with the kids as Mr. Quinzel, followed his wife into the kitchen.

He was silent as Mrs. Quinzel poured cocoa into mugs. "He really is good with those children, Gladys," he murmured.

"I told you," she retorted. "You can't judge him as a father because of his past, George. Those kids are in good hands. They might not have a normal upbringing, but there's not a doubt in my mind that Harley and J are going to do everything in their power to see they're happy and safe. And that's really all we can ask for, isn't it?"

He nodded slowly. "There's a method to the Joker's madness, did you know that?" he asked. "I don't understand it at all, but he seems to. He's kinda rational in his insanity, if that makes any sense."

"I'm sure it makes sense to him," she replied. "And obviously to Harley."

She handed him a tray to take out. "So he's not just a meshugener, huh?" she asked, smiling.

"No, he is," retorted Mr. Quinzel, firmly. "But maybe that's not altogether a bad thing to be."


	9. Chapter 9

"Jesus, Mrs. Q, you are one talented cook!" exclaimed the Joker, pushing his empty plate away. "Shame Harley didn't inherit your skill!"

"Puddin', I thought we agreed we weren't gonna mention that," muttered Harley.

"Oh yeah, sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to say 'Jesus.'"

"I meant my cooking, puddin'," she snapped.

"Hey, at least the Jesus thing is open for debate!" snapped Joker. "You being a terrible cook ain't!"

"Thank you, J," said Mrs. Quinzel, trying to keep the peace as usual. "I'm glad to know the food is appreciated. When I was a girl, my mother taught me that the most important thing for a woman was to be able to feed her family well. I wanted to teach Harley that that doesn't have to be true - a woman can be capable of other things too. And the most important thing for a woman to be is happy in herself and what she chooses to do with her life."

"Which is good in Harley's case, or she'd be a failure as a woman," agreed Joker. "Well, the little meshugena can't cook, but she has other talents and skills that make up for it," he said, pinching her cheek affectionately. "Probably not appropriate for me to talk about all of them in front of your parents, though…"

"Thanks, puddin', you can stop now," said Harley, quickly.

Mr. Quinzel downed his glass of wine as Joker checked his watch. "Woah, it's getting kinda late!" he exclaimed. "We'd better get to the presents, and then I gotta get to work!"

"Work?" repeated Mrs. Quinzel, puzzled. "Isn't it a holiday?"

"Oh, there are no holidays in the supercriminal business, Mrs. Q!" chuckled Joker. "Batsy's just dying to find out what I've got planned for him this year – the suspense is gonna be killing him! Which is why I'm waiting until after we do presents!" he said, standing up and picking up Arleen and J.J. from their highchairs. "C'mon, kiddies – wait until you see all the stuff Santa's brought for you!"

"We've got some gifts for the children too, in the car," said Mrs. Quinzel, gathering the dishes. "George, why don't you get them while I clear these dishes?"

"I'll help you, Mom," said Harley, standing up.

"No, Harley, why don't you help your father carry the gifts?" asked Mrs. Quinzel. "It'll give you two a few moments to talk alone. I think he has something he wants to say to you."

"Oh…yeah?" said Harley, slowly. Conversations between her and her father had a habit of turning stilted and awkward pretty quickly. Nevertheless, she followed him out to the car.

"Got the kids some cheques for their bank accounts too," he said, reaching for two envelopes. "You got that all sorted, huh? They let you have bank accounts?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't they?" asked Harley.

"I dunno, I just thought…being criminals…" he stammered.

"Believe me, Dad, if there's one thing Gotham's used to, it's eccentric criminals," said Harley. "People and businesses cater to all kinds here. Me and Mr. J even have our own tailor who only works with supercriminals."

"Oh yeah? There's a lot I don't know about your lifestyle, I guess," he said, reaching for the wrapped presents in the trunk.

"Well, I…didn't know you were interested in my lifestyle, particularly," she replied. "I didn't think you…approved."

"Oh Harley, whether or not I approve of your life, I'll always be interested in it," he murmured, handing her the presents. "You're my daughter, and I love you."

She smiled. "I love you too, Dad," she murmured.

"And that guy you're with, that Joker guy," he said, grabbing some more presents. "He…ain't a complete jerk, huh? I mean, he's good with the kids, and he seems to…love you, in his own way. He loves you enough to control his temper around your critical father, anyway," he said, smiling at her. "So I guess that's a lot."

She beamed at him. "Yeah, it is, Dad," she murmured, kissing his cheek. "And thank you. It means a lot to hear you say that."

"Well, seeing him with your kids reminded me what being a father is really about," he replied. "Guiding and looking out for your children, sure. But loving them unconditionally first. I think it was good for me to be reminded of that, even if it was by a shegetz and a meshugener."

Harley kissed him again, smiling. They carried the presents inside, where Mrs. Quinzel was doting over the children. "Where's Mr. J?" asked Harley, looking around.

"He said he was preparing a surprise for the children," replied Mrs. Quinzel.

They heard a sudden thud on the roof. Harley raced over the window, trying to see up onto the roof and praying that Batman wasn't here to spoil everything, just when everyone seemed to be getting along.

And then they heard a noise from the chimney, and a flood of soot landed in the fireplace, closely followed by a thin man dressed in a Santa suit.

"Boy, that's a lot harder than it looks!" Joker coughed, choking on soot as he tried to wipe ashes off his costume. "There is no way a fat man can accomplish that, lemme tell you! I barely squeezed through as it was!"

"Dada, wha do?" asked J.J., staring at him in confusion.

"I'm not Daddy, J.J. – I'm Santa Claus!" exclaimed Joker, hefting a big sack of presents over his shoulder. "Now come over here and sit on my knee while my little elf helper puts your presents under the tree!"

Harley took the sack from him as Joker sat down in an armchair with the kids, who looked at him skeptically.

"Dada…" began Arleen.

"No, Santa, Princess," he corrected.

J.J. shook his head. "Dada," he repeated, firmly. "Wha da?" he asked, grabbing Joker's fake beard and tugging on it.

"Hey, leave the whiskers alone!" snapped Joker, pulling them out of his grip.

"Da Dada!" said Arleen, pointing at him triumphantly.

"All right, fine!" he snapped, ripping the beard off. "It's Daddy, you happy?"

"Dada," said Arleen, beaming and cuddling him.

"Geez, you kiddies got no imagination," he grumbled. "I blame your mother."

"I got a great imagination, puddin'!" retorted Harley. "The kiddies are just too smart to be hoodwinked by a fake Santa!"

"You saying I don't look like Santa?" he demanded.

"Yeah," she retorted. "You're thin, and you got a clown face. That ain't no Santa I've ever seen!"

"All right, if you kiddies don't wanna sit on Santa's knee and talk to him, how about a ride down the roof in Santa's sled?" he asked, picking the children up. "I've got Bud and Lou harnessed up to pull it!"

"Bug a roo!" exclaimed J.J., clapping.

"Yay!" cried Arleen.

"Puddin', that don't sound very safe," said Harley, slowly.

"It'll be fine, Harl - trust me," he retorted. "I wouldn't put the kiddies in any danger. And then it's present opening time!"

"And what about your scheme for the Bat, puddin'?" reminded Harley.

He glanced at his watch again. "Plenty of time," he said, heading out the door with Arleen and J.J. "I won't forget a holiday staple like that, don't you worry!"


	10. Chapter 10

After several sled rides down the roof (and several sled rides around the backyard, courtesy of Bud and Lou), Arleen and J.J. were happier than ever. They returned inside to be greeted with more hot cocoa from their grandmother, and a mountain of presents, which they pounced on and ripped open, with help from Bud and Lou. As the evening drew on, and the fire burned down in the grate, J.J. was happily alternating between playing and chewing on a wooden dreidel, while his sister did the same with a brand new princess doll.

"You'd better get on that scheme, puddin'," reminded Harley.

"Yeah, yeah, in a second, Harl," he replied. "Quit nagging, would ya?"

Arleen held up her doll to him happily. "She's pretty, ain't she?" asked Joker, pulling his daughter up onto his lap. "Blonde hair, blue eyes…bit Aryan for a doll, actually. Should you really be playing with this?" he asked, taking it from her. She immediately started wailing, and he quickly shoved it back into her arms, which cheered her up instantly. "I'm just surprised your grandparents gave this to you," he commented.

"Puddin', you're overcompensating," retorted Harley. "Anyway, I got blonde hair and blue eyes, and so does Leenie."

"Oh…yeah," agreed Joker, slowly. "Guess some stereotypes just aren't true, huh?"

"Yeah," agreed Mr. Quinzel. "Like criminals making terrible fathers."

Joker smiled at him. Harley stood up. "I'll go do the dishes and leave the kiddies to play with their toys."

"I'll give you a hand, Harley," said her father.

"Me too," said Mrs. Quinzel. "There are a lot of them."

"Mazel tov, gwanna!" called J.J.

"Good boy, J.J.!" exclaimed Joker. "You can almost speak both English and Yiddish! Who's my little genius?!"

"I hope you'll both come stay again," said Harley, shutting the door to the kitchen. "This whole Christmas has turned out a lot better than I expected."

"Glad to know we can still surprise you, Harley," replied her mother, smiling at her.

"Actually, it's Mr. J who's surprised me most this year," said Harley. "He's usually obsessed with his Christmas scheme for the Bat weeks in advance. If he don't hurry up, he won't have one done in time, and the Bat will actually have to take a night off and spend the holidays with the people he loves. Not that he probably loves anyone," she muttered, heading over to the sink.

The dishes were finished about twenty minutes later, and Harley re-entered the living room intending to remind Joker about his scheme again. But she paused and smiled, her heart melting, as she stood in the doorway and saw the Joker fast asleep on the sofa with Arleen and J.J. curled up in his arms, and Bud and Lou at his feet, all of them equally fast asleep.

"Aw, they must have exhausted themselves from all that playing in the snow and sledding," she whispered to her parents.

"Should we wake them up?" asked Mrs. Quinzel.

"Nah," said Harley. "Batsy can take a break this year. Consider it his Christmas present from Mr. J."

She went over to the sofa and bent down to kiss them all goodnight. "Merry Christmas, puddin'," she whispered. "Merry Christmas, angels."

She flicked off the overhead lights, and then shut the door to the living room. The room was dark except for the embers of the fire and the Christmas tree lights glowing softly. J.J. stirred slightly, yawning. "Werry Kismas, Mama," he whispered. "Werry Kismas, Dada an Weenie."

Arleen shushed him. "Seep," she said firmly, cuddling her doll and her father.

"Mmm, couldn't have said it better myself, Leenie," murmured Joker. "Just going to sleep and not having a holiday scheme is gonna drive Batsy nuts! Not that he ain't already there. But now he's gonna be out all night, waiting for a crime that's never gonna happen," he chuckled. "Serves him right, too! Oh, who's laughing now, Bat-grinch?"

"Seep, Dada," repeated Arleen, reaching up a hand to cover his mouth.

"Sorry, angelface," he whispered, kissing her. "Merry Christmas to all…" he said, yawning and curling up with his children. "And to all a good night."

**The End**


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